Everlasting Desire

“How about you?” she asked. “No ill effects from the fire?”

He shrugged. “My throat was sore for a few days. Nothing major.” He lifted his arm, which was bandaged from elbow to wrist. “The burn turned out to be worse than they first thought. Doc says I’ll probably have a nasty scar.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “But it could have been worse. Anyway, I came by hoping that dude who was with you might be here. I want to thank him for getting me on that ambulance when he did.”

“I’m sorry, he’s not here.”

“Well, give him my thanks when you see him, will you?”

“Yes, of course.” She blinked away the tears scorching the backs of her eyes. “Can I show you anything tonight?”

“Just your gorgeous self,” he said with a wink.

Megan shook her head. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too, babe. My proposal still stands, anytime you want to say yes.”

For one mad, crazy moment, she was tempted to accept. Why not? Rhys was gone, and she was tired of being alone. Drexel was cute; he was rich; he was famous. If she married him, she could have anything her heart desired—houses, luxury cars, expensive clothes and jewelry. Anything she wanted. Except the man she loved.

“We’re going on tour day after tomorrow, but I’ll stop in when I get back.” Leaning forward, Drexel kissed her cheek. “See you soon, babe.”

With a farewell wave to Mr. Parker, Drexel left the store.

Megan stared after him. She had always been fond of him, but there was a subtle difference in their relationship now, born of the fact that they had shared and survived a terrifying experience.

The rest of the night crawled by. Megan waited on several customers, but she felt as though she was moving through quicksand, as if time itself had altered somehow since that night in the park.

She was grieving for Rhys as if he had passed away, she thought, or maybe she was mourning the loss of their relationship. But she’d get over it.

“Are you all right, Megan?” Mr. Parker asked, coming up beside her.

She nodded. It wouldn’t be easy, but her heart would heal, in time.

Rhys stood outside of Shore’s, his presence cloaked from passersby as he gazed through the window, watching Megan move about the store.

He had tried to stay away, told himself they were both better off. In spite of the lies he had told himself, he had known from the beginning that, sooner or later, she would discover what he was and that knowledge would put an end to their relationship. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, or to hurt so damn bad.

He stared at her, hungering for her like a starving man deprived of food. He could smell the enticing scent of her hair and skin, hear the siren call of her heartbeat. He felt her lingering horror at discovering what he was, her feelings of confusion and betrayal. He had known she would never be able to accept the truth, yet the knowledge aroused his anger. Damn her! It wasn’t his fault he had been turned into a monster. He understood her feelings, knew she had every right to be afraid of him, to be repulsed by what he was, but it did nothing to ease his anger. He could have drained her dry, turned her, killed her, but all he had done was love her. And he had thought she loved him.

She loved the man, taunted a little voice in the back of his mind. No woman could love the monster.

Hadn’t he learned that lesson centuries ago from Josette? He would be wise to remember it in the future.

For the first time in his long existence, he hated what he was. Monster. There was no escaping it, no point in trying to be anything else.

“Vampire!” The word hissed between his teeth as he spun away from the window. Driven by a rage that would not be contained, a hunger that would not be denied, he fled into the darkness.

Chapter 22

Tomás Villagrande strolled down Hollywood Boulevard, bemused by the steady stream of humanity that hurried by, never knowing there was a killer in their midst. The scent of their blood was intoxicating. For a moment, he was tempted to throw off the thin veneer of humanity he wore and let them see him for what he was. He could terrorize the puny mortals around him like a wolf raiding a flock of sheep. He could make a game of it, see how many he could drain in, say, ten minutes.

Somewhat reluctantly, he shook the thought away. Perhaps another night. For now, he wanted to explore the city. Costain resided here. According to vampire etiquette, Tomás knew he should make his presence known to the Master of the West Coast Vampires, and perhaps he would, at some later date. But for now, he kept his presence cloaked, and he would continue to do so until he knew the lay of the land.

And so he continued to stroll along the sidewalk. How times had changed, he thought. In his day, decent women had dressed demurely and never ventured outside without a chaperone. True, women had bared a great deal of cleavage, but little more. Only the lightskirts had flashed so much skin, behaved so brazenly. A gaggle of teenage girls went by, cell phones pressed to their ears, their rounded arms and flat bellies bared to his gaze, their shorts barely covering their nicely curved bottoms. It made his mouth water just to look at them.

A couple of teenage boys cruised the boulevard in a silver convertible with the top down, music blaring from the car’s speakers.

Across the street, a man dressed as a woman waited for the light to change. Farther down the street, Tomás saw a woman dressed as a man. Insanity, he thought. What was the world coming to?

With a rueful shake of his head, he continued to stroll along the city streets, enjoying the cool kiss of the night air, the faint scent of the sea carried to him by an errant breeze.

And then, as he approached a tall, glass-fronted building, he caught the distinct scent of vampire.

Chapter 23

Megan yawned behind her hand as she laid out a new shipment of Armani dress shirts. She had been miserable the last few days, and it was all because of Rhys. Even when she managed to keep him out of her head during the day, he haunted her dreams at night.

She had just finished ringing up a sale for one of her clients when Mr. Parker came out of his office, his expression grim.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Some man named Greg is on the phone for you.”

“Greg?” Why on earth would he be calling her at work? “Did he say what he wanted?”

“I think you’d better talk to him.”

A sudden coldness gripped Megan as she hurried into the office and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Megan, it’s Greg. I’m at Mercy Arms Hospital with Shirl.”

“The hospital! Good Lord, is she…?”

“She’s unconscious.”

“What happened? Were you in an accident?”

“No, we went out dancing after dinner. She said she wasn’t feeling well, and we decided to come home early. I’d just turned off the freeway when she collapsed.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Mr. Parker appeared in the doorway when she got off the phone. “Bad news?”

“My roommate, she’s in the hospital,” Megan said, grabbing her coat and her handbag. “I’ve got to go.”

He nodded. “I hope she’ll be okay.”

“She will be,” Megan said. She refused to think otherwise.

She made it to the hospital in record time.

Shirl was in a private room on the third floor. Greg looked up when Megan entered the room. It was easy to see from the look on his face that their relationship was a lot more serious than Shirl had let on.

“How is she?” Megan asked, hurrying to Shirl’s bedside.

“About the same.”

“What does the doctor say?”

“Not much at the moment. We’re waiting for the results of some tests.”

Megan took Shirl’s hand in hers. Even unconscious, her face almost as pale as the pillowcase, Shirl looked beautiful. “She’s always been so healthy.” Megan looked across the bed at Greg. “Except for her headaches…” Her breath caught in her throat. “You don’t think…” Megan couldn’t finish the sentence.

Feeling suddenly weak, she dropped into the chair beside the bed. All those headaches…In the movies, it always meant something awful, like cancer or a brain tumor. Fear congealed in the pit of her stomach.

She looked at Greg, seeking hope, but judging from the bleak expression on his face, he was entertaining some pretty morbid thoughts of his own.

She was surprised that no one told them to leave. Nurses came and went all through the night, their rubber-soled shoes making little or no sound as they took Shirl’s vitals, her blood, changed the IV.

It was near four A.M. when Megan came awake with a start. For a moment, she forgot where she was, but only a moment. The distinct smell of disinfectant reminded her that she was in the hospital. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she glanced around the room. Greg slept in the other chair, snoring softly.

Ignoring the ache in her back and shoulders caused by sleeping in a hard plastic chair, Megan rose. She smiled when she saw that Shirl was awake. “Hey, girl, how do you feel? Can I get you anything?”

“You can get me out of here.”

“I will, as soon as the doctors say you can leave.”

“No, Meggie, now, today.” Shirl grabbed Megan’s hand so hard Megan feared the bones might break. “Megan, please get me out of here. I don’t want to die in this place, hooked up to a bunch of machines, tubes everywhere!”

“Shirl, calm down. You’re not going to die.” As gently as she could, she pulled her hand away, then took both of Shirl’s hands in hers. “You’re going to be fine.”

“No.” Shirl lifted a hand to her head. “I have a tumor.”

“You can’t know that,” Megan said, forcing a note of calm into her voice that she was far from feeling. “Greg said they’re waiting for the test results.”

“I know, Meggie. It’s been there for a long time.”

“What?” Megan stared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">